"Do you believe I could be happy here? I can't marry Orestes and living as a cloistered concubine would be little better than taking a cell in the desert." Selene shook her head. "You, who are closest to me, should know food, safety, even companionship are not enough. I need to make a difference, make things better, if only in small ways."
"You've changed, little sister." Phillip could not hide the worry in his eyes. "You've grown up in ways I never expected. It's just that…you, Rebecca, Father…in so short a time is difficult."
"I know. I lose you all too." Selene stiffened with resolve. "I won't let Father die without me. I will visit him. Tonight."
"No, Selene, it's…" Phillip saw the look in her eyes. "What time?"
"I'll be at the servant's entrance shortly after dark. Tell Father I'm coming home."
Selene pulled the cloak over her hair, hiding her face in deep shadows. Demetrius led her the back way through the garden to the servant's quarters and out of the mansion's grounds. Nut juice darkened her face and hands, well-placed smudges of kohl deepened lines from nose to mouth, other lines created wrinkles in her smooth brow. She took on the gait that comes with the burdens of age.
Orestes had told her it was too soon to go out, and much too soon to go to her father's house. She threatened to leave undisguised if he didn't help. The hurt in his eyes and bitterness of his words haunted her. "I knew I couldn't keep you safe here forever." He'd laughed harshly. "We're a fine pair of fools, you and me. May God look after you, because I can't." He had stomped out of the room before she could say good-bye.
Demetrius opened a small door in the side of the wall and passed her a key. "You'll need this to return, Mistress."
"I don't know when I'll be back. Tell Orestes..." she hesitated, "just tell him I'll stay safe."
She slipped out of the servant's entrance and down the steep hill. People hurried to their homes and evening meal. With her old woman's hobble, she blended with the crowd, keeping a watchful eye. After several minutes, she realized a well-built youth, with something of the soldier in his bearing, trailed her.
Selene's heart thudded in an erratic rhythm. Did Cyril's people still hunt for her? Or did the youth see an easy target for robbery? She ambled across a square and ducked into a crowded tavern. The young man followed and casually surveyed the crowd.
Selene snagged a servant by the sleeve. "Do you have a latrine?"
The harried woman hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "Out back."
Selene slipped out. Tables and benches crowded the patio, lit by oil lamps. At the far end of the garden, a small building announced its purpose by its odor. A tree next to it overhung the wall. She glanced back. No sign of the nosy young man. Selene scrambled up the tree to the top of the wall and down to the alley behind. From there she made it to her father's home with no shadow but her own.
Selene knocked on the kitchen door. The scuff of sandals preceded the door opening. Lamplight flickered on Rebecca's face. Selene sidled through with one last glance over her shoulder at the empty alley. She pulled back her hood.
Rebecca's eyes went wide. "Selene, is that really you?"
Selene held out her arms. They embraced, then Rebecca pulled back to look her over more carefully.
"I thought I'd never see you again. When we heard you had escaped, I hoped you'd left the city. The Bloody Patriarch's men turned this place upside down. I practically threw them out of your father's room. They scared poor Aaron out of the last of his wits. He dreamed for days that the "bad men" came to take us away. When Orestes gave me your message…"
Selene chuckled. "Slow down, my friend. We will talk, but first I must see my father."
"Of course." Rebecca hugged her again. "I'm so happy you're safe."
"We need to be careful." Selene gently disentangled herself. "You never know who might be listening at keyholes. Someone told Cyril of things in our household." Her voice caught. "Did you hear of Mother Nut?"
"Another life I hold the Patriarch responsible for." Rebecca's moist eyes became flinty. "I have my suspicions about who told tales. I sent her home to her family. The rest of the servants are in bed. But you're right, we shouldn't tarry." Rebecca led Selene out of the kitchen, toward the private quarters.
"Have you been caring for Father alone?"
"One of the other servants watches when I have to leave. I've been sleeping on the floor. Phillip is there now."
"Good. If any do see me, tell them I'm a nurse Phillip hired to help you."
They arrived at Calistus' door. Phillip sat by the bed, a lamp in the corner burning low. He rose and embraced his sister. "There's no change. He hasn't eaten or drunk in days."
Selene hardly recognized her father. Flesh had melted away, leaving pasty gray skin stretched tight over bones. His breath came in shallow irregular gasps. Selene sat in the chair her brother had vacated and picked up her father's skeletal hand.
"It's Selene, Father. I've come home to take care of you."
Selene thought she saw her father's lips twitch, more likely an illusion caused by the flickering lamplight or eyes blurred with unshed tears.
"We'll leave you alone." Phillip ushered Rebecca out.
Selene took a sponge from a bowl by the bed and squeezed water into her father's mouth. It ran down the sides of his face. She wiped off the moisture. Deprived of doing anything substantive for her father, Selene found herself humming a lullaby – one her mother had sung to her.
The night crawled by, filled with memories of her father and brothers. Sometimes she spoke aloud, asking if Calistus remembered the time she got stuck in the fig tree, or she scared Nicaeus by putting a snake in his boot. Sometimes she sat in silence, or crooned nonsense words. The quiet watch and long day eventually overcame her.
As the water clock struck three, Rebecca shook Selene awake. "He's gone."
The hand Selene held was cool and dry. She checked her father's breath and pulse, lifted his eyelids.
Selene had dreaded this day for over a year. She thought she had shed all her tears, and was surprised by the clenching pain that shot from her heart to close her throat with an iron grip. She drew a ragged breath. Tears oozed down her stained cheeks.
Generation, growth and decay – the inevitable cycle of mortal life. She knew the process intimately, had wrestled with loss both expected and unexpected. This empty husk was not her father. His absence, a sharp pain, she knew from experience, could only be blunted by time.
Selene crossed his arms over his chest and kissed her father one final time. "I'll tell Phillip."
"He's in your father's study. I'll stay with the body." Rebecca touched her arm. "I think he knew you were here. That's why he held on so long; waiting for you."
"Thank you, Rebecca."
Selene went downstairs to her father's office. Several lamps made the room bright as day. Phillip looked up, started and rose to his feet. "Father?"
Selene moved into his arms. "He's gone." Phillip clenched her tight and bent his head into her hair. She felt his breath shudder as he stifled sobs. "He's out of pain now, brother."
"I know." Phillip released her and rubbed his stubbled face, erasing any trace of tears. He went to a pitcher sitting on a side table. "Would you like some wine?"
She nodded.
"I kept hoping for a miracle." Phillip handed her a cup. "Each time I walked into his room I expected him to sit up and greet me. I knew it wouldn't happen, but I couldn't help myself." His gaze turned inward, and he crashed his goblet on the desk, slopping red wine over the papers, staining them like blood. "He's been sick a whole year and what did I do? Gad about the city, playing the spy. Acting the fool is more like it. He needed me home and I spent my time in taverns. I avoided my responsibilities – just as he always accused me."
"Father knew you did important work. He took pride in your friendship with Orestes."
"Much good it did him, you or Orestes."
"Father had a disease of the heart. Nothing you did could have prolonged hi
s life or cut it short. And your relationship with Orestes saved my life." Selene set down her goblet to take his face in her hands. "Don't blame yourself. The pain of losing Father causes such morbid thoughts. I know. I tell myself it's a blessing; he's released from the agony of his failing body. That's why it hurts so. I don't want his death to feel natural, accepted. I want to howl at the moon, twist God's arm and make Him give my father back."
Phillip sighed. "You feel angry and I feel guilty. We make a fine pair." He sopped the wine from a pile of ledgers and notes.
"What are those?" Selene asked to distract him from his self-abnegation.
"Account books, tax receipts, civil levies." Phillip's mouth turned down in a bitter line. "Father was in worse straits than we thought. He owes thousands of talents, and guess who holds most of the notes?"
"Not Ision?"
Phillip nodded glumly. "He's been buying them since your inquest. I'll have to sell almost all the land and, in these bad times, will not get near their worth. With the rents gone, I can't afford this house and its upkeep, much less my civic obligations."
"Surely you can get more time on the notes." Selene grasped her brother's arm. "Next year's harvest might be better."
"One good harvest won't save me. Besides, why would Ision wait when he could have both land and harvest?"
"I had no idea." Selene gripped his arm. "Phillip, what will you do?"
"Frankly, I don't know. Tonight I'm too tired to figure it out." He laughed slightly hysterical. "At least Father regularly paid the funeral association. We won't have to sell anything to bury him."
"When will you have the funeral?"
Phillip chewed his lower lip. "Monday, next."
"When is my funeral?"
"Good God, I forgot." Phillip looked shocked. "That poor girl's body is still at the mortuary. I promised someone to fetch it when the arrangements had been made." He sat and gulped more wine. "I guess we can have a double funeral. Given our family's disgrace and lack of financial resources, we can be forgiven if it's a small gathering."
Selene yawned. "It's nearly dawn. I should leave before the servants wake." She kissed her brother on the cheek. "I'll be there."
He opened his mouth to protest then closed it without comment.
Chapter 40
Entering her rooms, Selene nearly tripped over Demetrius. He sat up groggily.
"Mistress Selene. Are you all right?"
"Perfectly safe, Demetrius." She stripped off her outer robes on her way to the bedroom.
The slave rose to his feet, wincing. "And your father?"
"He died before morning."
"I'm sorry, Mistress." Demetrius followed, picking up her things. "Would you like a bath?"
"Demetrius, you must read minds!" She repaired to the cosmetics table to rub her face with lotion. Little of the dye came off. "I'll have to soak for a week to get this off my face and hands."
"Then you won't be going out again?" Demetrius asked neutrally.
"Not until the funeral, next Monday."
Demetrius drew her bath. "I'll bring breakfast, Mistress."
Lounging in the cooling water, Selene started when Orestes arrived with a tray. A mottling of blue, yellow and green still showed where his bruises healed.
"Demetrius told me about your father." Orestes set the tray down on a table. "Calistus was a good man. He will be sorely missed in the council. I trust you journeyed home and back without incident?"
She hesitated. "A young man seemed inordinately interested in me, but I eluded him." She told him about her shadow and how she lost it.
"So that's what happened." Orestes smiled. "Phoebus was most upset. I upbraided him heartily for letting an 'old woman' outsmart him."
"You had me followed?" She looked at him accusingly. "Didn't you know it would frighten me?"
"I care for you and want you safe." He scratched his jaw. "And I underestimated your ability to take care of yourself – again. I never thought you would spot him."
She harrumphed and stood to retrieve a drying sheet.
Observing her two-toned body, he broke into strangled guffaws. She snatched the sheet, wrapping it around her. "Go away. I don't want you to see me like this."
"I've seen you naked, or have you forgotten so quickly?"
"No." She blushed. "I mean, I don't want you to see me looking like some piebald animal."
"My dear, if you wore the spots of a leopard or the stripes of a zebra, you would still be beautiful." He looked her over critically. "That golden mahogany suits you. With some red henna in your hair, your own brother might not recognize you."
"I'll try that. It's difficult being an old woman." She squeezed water from her hair and sat at the dresser to comb it.
"Besides, no one would believe I keep an old woman as my lover. It's time you got some servants to care for you. Poor Demetrius is running himself ragged, waiting on you and functioning as my secretary." Orestes picked over the fruits on the tray, choosing a ripe fig. "Where would you like to be from? Cyrene? Or maybe Thebes?"
Selene stared into the silver mirror. "I'm not sure how long I'll stay here, Orestes."
His eager smile retreated and his voice grew guarded. "Demetrius told me..."
"...that I won't be going out again until Monday," she interrupted. "That doesn't mean I want to live here permanently. There is little for me here..."
"I see." His mouth tightened. "I promised to help you in any way necessary. Please let Demetrius know and I will authorize it." He turned on his heel, arms stiff at his sides.
"Orestes, wait!" Selene grabbed at her slipping sheet. "Curse it! I didn't mean it like that. Please sit and eat. I'll dress and we can talk. I feel at a disadvantage, nearly naked while you're fully dressed."
He nodded and sat. In a cedar chest, Selene found a sky-blue gown of thin linen, less revealing than most, and pulled it on, thinking. She had misjudged the depth of Orestes' passion and the prickliness of his pride. Selene had reckoned his concern for her to be more political than personal; his reluctance the night they made love that of an honorable man with a friend's sister. Now she thought his reticence masked a more personal pain.
The breakfast tray remained untouched. Selene sat at Orestes' side, close enough to feel the heat radiating through his linen tunic. She twined a strand of damp hair around her finger. "Who do I remind you of, Orestes, that I trouble you so?"
His shoulders stiffened then he slumped forward, hands dangling between his knees. "Selene, you are so very young. You will have many loves in your lifetime. I am over twice your age, and know the pain love brings. I would spare you that if I could."
For the first time she noticed the flesh sagging slightly around his jowls, the generous silver threading his hair. She hesitantly touched his shoulder.
"Would you spare me the joy as well? For that is what I would miss if I could not love."
He shivered.
"Are you chilled?" Selene asked in concern
"No. Where I grew up, people say sudden chills come from someone walking on your grave. The tribes of Britannia have many superstitions."
"The wild people of the Misty Isles. You told me of them the first night you came to my father's house."
"I grew up in the south of Britain in a Christian home, but fell in love with the daughter of a druid. She was fair; with hair the color of burnished copper and eyes like the sky on a bright summer's day. She ran the fields like a wild mare and smelled of honeysuckle." He gazed into the distance.
"What became of her?" Selene asked, reading the answer in his face.
"We were very young and very foolish. We felt our love pure and timeless, that all would bow down before it. Our fathers felt differently. Mine enlisted me in the army to serve in Gaul. Her father arranged a marriage. When I returned to Britain, many years later, I found she had drowned herself and our unborn babe just months after I left."
He clenched his hands till the knuckles turned white. Selene caught her breath at the anger i
n his emerald eyes.
"I loved no one but Rhianon. If I had fought harder to stay with her…but she was lost to me. I poured my heart into service, forsaking all thoughts of love and happiness." Orestes unclenched his fists and, sliding his hands down Selene's bare arms, gently traced the play of muscles under skin. "Then I saw you dancing. Your youth and passion and hope for the future inflamed me."
"I was too weak to save Rhianon, but thought I might right the wrongs done you." He took both her hands in his and gazed into her eyes. "For one night, I thought I could. You made me feel young and strong. The next day, that cursed monk struck me down and I realized I grow older, my power wanes. I cannot restore you to your family, and you will not let me keep you safe, so there is no joy in my feeling for you, only pain."
Better with action than words, Selene pulled his head to her breast. He circled her waist and relaxed into the comfort of her embrace. She tried to rekindle the reckless freedom of the night they made love. It eluded her. His loss and hers mingled to create a different bond, based on human compassion; the ability of a woman to ease a man's sore heart.
Orestes did not try to prevent her from attending the funeral, having Demetrius go so far as to arrange for her "apprenticeship" with a troop of professional mourners he hired for the occasion. She dyed her hair dark red and stained her body honey-brown. With kohl ringing her eyes, Selene hardly recognized herself. Taking no chances, she stayed in the background, observing through her mandatory black veil.
"Not much of a crowd, eh, dearie?" One of the women near her dug an elbow in her ribs. "And for a councilor and all!" Selene mutely nodded.
Selene of Alexandria Page 38