Jewel of the Nile

by Tessa Afshar

  “Yeshua is not against you, Chariline,” he said. “Do not give up. Not until God makes his will clear.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Did God want to withhold her father from her? Or did the fear of that eventuality make her jump to conclusions about every hurdle she faced?

  Either way, it did not matter. She would not hold anything back from Iesous. Not anymore. She looked at Theo. “A wise man once told me that the Lord will be with me, always. With or without Vitruvia. With or without my father. He is with me. I will not give up, Theo. But I will not strive against the Lord either. I will wait, until he shows me the way.”

  The gray eyes turned molten, warm with open approval.

  She felt a chain loosen, a weight lift. She felt a cage snap open and smiled.

  As if drawn by an irresistible force, Theo’s head bent a fraction more until their heads almost touched. Before they did, he gulped a breath and stepped away.

  After the evening meal, Chariline showed her drawings for the workshop to Priscilla. “These will not be difficult to construct,” she said. “They will double your storage capacity and help keep the workshop organized throughout the day, even when large orders require a lot of leather.”

  Priscilla studied the designs with interest. “How did you think of this? I have never seen a storage place built under the table like this. Practical, but attractive. I must show your plans to Aquila. In the winter, when we are not quite so busy, he will have time to build them. Thank you for thinking of us, my dear.” She looked at the thick scroll of drawings. “You have more?”

  “Some are mine, and some belonged to my mother.”

  Priscilla insisted on seeing every design. Though not acquainted with architectural concepts, she was both perceptive and interested, a combination that made her company a true pleasure. Chariline uncovered a lavish domus designed by her mother.

  “This is one of my favorites of hers,” she said. Her mother had managed to give the domus, a house designed for urban neighborhoods, the homey welcome of a country estate.

  Priscilla said nothing. For a long moment, she studied the domus with an odd intensity. “I have seen this,” she said.

  “This domus?” Chariline raised a brow. “It’s an original design by my mother, not a copy of an existing house. It has never been built.”

  “Nonetheless, I have seen it. I simply cannot recall where.” She traced a finger over the distinctive design of the capitals. “I have seen those capitals. That colonnade. Even the color of that facade.”

  She rose to her feet. “Let’s ask Aquila.”

  Curious, Chariline followed in Priscilla’s footsteps. Likely, Priscilla had seen a villa that looked similar to her mother’s plan. Still, she would enjoy seeing a building that resembled what her mother had wished to build.

  They found Aquila in the workshop, clearing up the day’s clutter. “My love, have you seen this domus?” Priscilla asked, spreading the drawing on the table in front of him.

  “What’s this? An architectural drawing?”

  Chariline nodded. “My mother’s work.”

  Aquila drew the lamp closer and bent over the image. “This looks oddly familiar.”

  “That is what I said,” his wife cried. “Where have we seen it?”

  “Let me think.” Aquila traced the outline of the portico. “I have it!” He sat up.

  “What?” Chariline and Priscilla said at the same time.

  “It’s the domus we pass when we go to Senator Pudens’s house. The one on the corner of their road in the Esquiline hills.”

  “I knew I had seen it before! The very same house, isn’t it, beloved?”

  Aquila nodded. “I am no engineer. But as best as I can tell, this is the same house.”

  “But how is that possible? My mother designed this house twenty-five years ago, and she died not long after. Who could have built it?”

  “Would you like to find out?” Priscilla asked with a grin.

  Theo had the morning free. When he heard of the mystery of the domus, he offered to accompany Chariline to the Esquiline hills so that she might see it for herself. Priscilla volunteered to show them the way. Without being asked, Taharqa grabbed his cloak and became their rear guard. It was no empty gesture. After two serious attempts on Chariline’s life, he did not need Theo to tell him that they had to protect her every time she left the house.

  Theo’s eyes darted around, vigilant of every shadow as they walked past the arches of Aqua Claudia, the aqueduct completed by Emperor Claudius not many years hence. The urban city of Rome with its high-rise apartments, the tottering insulae that rose five and six stories into the skies, and extraordinary public buildings gave way to the hills of the suburbs where the affluent lived.

  On a corner plot, perched on high ground, an elegant yellow domus with marble paneling sat behind low travertine walls. As if by mutual consent, they all came to a standstill and stared. There was no denying that this was the same building as that drawn by Chariline’s mother.

  A small sound escaped Chariline. Without thinking, Theo reached for her hand, and she held on to him as to a lifeline.

  “Well? What are we waiting for?” Priscilla asked. “Someone announce our presence.”

  Theo approached the double gates and stared at the knocker, two dolphins of bronze fashioned into a circle. He had seen that very design in one corner of Gemina’s drawing. It felt strange to touch its cold, solid mass. To hear the sharp rap of metal against wood, when its image lay curled in Chariline’s arms like a scepter from the past.

  The four of them were shown into the atrium by a soft-spoken slave and asked to wait. The small pool in the middle of the room, the curtained openings to small chambers on either side, even the location of the columns were an exact replica of Gemina’s drawings, Theo realized.

  A tall man of middle years approached from the passageway, beyond which lay the peristyle, the formal courtyard which was the heart of the more private part of the house. His toga fell in perfect folds over his shoulder. “May I help you?” he asked.

  In answer, Chariline stepped forward. Without a word, she gave him her mother’s drawings.

  The man cast a curious look at her before unfurling the scroll. His forehead crinkled as he studied the images before him and read the notations. The color drained from his lean face.

  “Where did you find this?”

  “It belonged to my mother. That is her handwriting. Her drawing. Her design.”

  “Who was your mother?” he rasped.

  “Her name was Gemina. Daughter of Quintus Blandinus Geminus.”

  Their host stared at Chariline for a long, wordless moment. “You better come inside.”

  His invitation surprised Theo. The inner portions of a domus contained the more intimate chambers of the home, reserved for close friends and family. Strangers were usually entertained in the atrium, where they were standing. Seeing as they did not even know their host’s name, they could not expect him to welcome them into the private sanctum of his house.

  He led them to the airy dining room, a rectangular chamber connected to the garden by a folding door. Wall paintings of the countryside gave the chamber a cheerful aspect. The intricate tiles on the floor, patterned after the ocean, made it look bigger than it was.

  “Refreshments for our guests,” their host said to the soft-spoken slave who had opened the door to them, before inviting them to sit on the comfortable couches that had been placed against three walls.

  “Forgive my rudeness,” Theo said. “I am Theodotus of Corinth. May I inquire your name? You see, we only came here because we recognized the house from Gemina’s drawings. But we remain in ignorance regarding your identity.”

  Their host laughed. “This day grows increasingly curious.” He extended a hand of greeting to Theo. “I am Aulus Galerius Sergius.” His grip was strong and warm. Turning, he faced Chariline. “And you are?”

  “I am Chariline. Chariline Gemina.”

  Galerius shook
his head with wonder. “Chariline Gemina, it is a pleasure to meet you. I knew your mother.”

  Chariline, who had only just sat down, sprang to her feet. “You did?”

  “Indeed. Your mother was my wife’s dearest friend.”

  “Your wife?” Her throat worked as if she could not quite swallow. “You are married to . . . Vitruvia?”

  “How did you know?” Galerius said. “Though she is gone, I’m afraid.”

  The air leaked out of Theo’s chest.

  “I am so sorry,” Chariline whispered.

  “What? No. No, no! I did not mean she is gone to the afterlife. I meant she is not at home. She has gone to visit her father for the day. Which is why she is not here in person to greet you.”

  Chariline’s hand trembled against her lips. Everything in Theo wanted to leap to her side so he could hold her. Comfort her. His jaw ached as he ground his teeth, forcing himself to hold back. Forcing himself to watch her struggle and do nothing about it. It was not his place. The thought wormed into his gut like a drop of acid, burning all the way.

  “I never knew of Vitruvia until I found my mother’s letters,” Chariline said, her voice wavering. “I found them hidden in a secret pouch in these drawings.”

  Galerius shook his head. “And we never knew about you. We never discovered that Gemina had given birth to a child before dying, or we would have sought you out long before this.”

  CHAPTER 22

  There is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.

  PROVERBS 18:24

  Like drops of mercury, Chariline’s thoughts scattered, rolling away from her grasp. They had come in search of her mother’s domus and found Vitruvia! Chariline’s mind splintered in a dozen directions. She found it hard to keep up with the unfolding drama, her own life peeling one layer at a time before her.

  Ensconced in the graceful building her mother had created out of dreams, surrounded by the shapes, proportions, and colors she had devised, Chariline sat stupefied for long moments. A three-dimensional world had replaced the flat lines of her mother’s drawings, bringing them to life. She reached out and touched the door leading to the garden. It felt as though she was touching a bit of the mother she had never known.

  Galerius poured ruby-red wine into a glass goblet and, after adding a generous splash of water, offered it to her. “Have a drink, child. It will steady you.”

  Chariline accepted the cup and took a small sip. By the time Galerius had served everyone else, she had gained control over her runaway thoughts.

  “I can’t wait to tell Vitruvia about you,” Galerius said with a grin. “I may have to revive her from a dead faint. She will be astonished when I tell her that Gemina has a daughter.”

  “I was equally astonished to know my mother had a secret friend! A friend who was the granddaughter of the great architect Vitruvius. How did this domus come to be built? I thought I had the original plans.”

  Galerius rose. “Wait here.” When he returned, he had a large roll of papyrus under his arm.

  Upon unrolling the bundle, Chariline discovered three separate scrolls containing the same drawings that she possessed, but in greater detail. In the corner, with a flourish, sprawled a jaunty note: Long life to you, dearest Vitruvia. And may you pass to the end of your years.

  “She sent these to my wife as a twenty-fifth birthday present.”

  “She must have used the one I have as a rough draft.”

  Galerius nodded. “We saved these plans for years. Vitruvia always said that she wanted to build that domus in honor of Gemina’s memory. We both loved the design. A few years ago, we managed to buy this plot and were finally able to make Vitruvia’s dream a reality.”

  “I am certain my mother would have been pleased by what you have accomplished.”

  Galerius came to his feet. “Would you like to see the rest of the house?”

  He led them through the domus, starting with his tablinum, a comfortable and airy chamber with unusually high ceilings, dominated by Galerius’s massive desk. His tablinum was connected to the garden by a folding door. They strode through, finding a partially covered walkway with narrow marble columns and paneling, which gave the outdoor space a sheltered feeling. The sound of trickling water made them feel that the urban city of Rome lay a thousand miles away.

  As was customary, the kitchen had been tucked in the back of the garden. What was unexpected was the clever half wall, covered in a vine with aromatic blooms, which completely hid the kitchen’s entrance from view. In similar fashion, her mother had created nooks for the household servants and slaves that remained hidden behind discreet doors and panels. A small, private bath and latrine had been built into the opposite corner of the garden. Upstairs, elegant chambers and practical storage rooms lined a long corridor.

  Every room had been thoughtfully designed, exhibiting Vitruvius’s three main attributes: utility, beauty, and strength. This was a house that would last through the ages. A domus to leave to your children and your children’s children for generations to come.

  “Your mother was a gifted architect,” Galerius said when Chariline admired his home. “Everything here has her touch.”

  After he had led them back to the dining room, Chariline asked, “When was the last time you heard from my mother?”

  Galerius thought. “Gemina wrote one last letter to my wife from Caesarea, telling us of your parents’ misfortune. At that time, she still hoped she might be able to sway the Cushite queen. Hoped to be reunited with your father. She must not have known about you, yet, as she made no mention of her pregnancy.”

  Chariline clasped her hands. “My parents were never reunited. She died without seeing my father again.”

  “So we gathered. When we did not hear from her after that, we grew concerned. I hired a man to find news of her.” He adjusted the folds of his toga. “By then, she was gone. Such a tragic loss. Vitruvia was inconsolable for months.”

  Chariline leaned forward, eyes wide. “Did Vitruvia know my father?”

  “They never met.”

  “But did she know his name?”

  Galerius’s brows lowered. “His name?” He waited for a beat. “Child, do you not know who your father is?”

  “Until a few weeks ago, I thought my father was dead.”

  “Then, who raised you?”

  “My aunt.”

  “Ah yes. Blandina, wasn’t it? We only met her once. She was married by the time we met your mother and lived in Caesarea. A sweet lady. Your mother was very fond of her. Did she tell you your father had died?”

  “No. My grandparents told both of us that story. Grandfather was furious about my mother’s decision to elope. I suppose this was his way of evening the score with the man who had, in his words, ruined my mother.” She copied her grandfather’s haughty voice and Galerius laughed.

  “You are not close to Quintus Blandinus, I take it?”

  Chariline smoothed the trailing skirts of her tunic over her legs. “For years, my grandparents wanted no part of me. It was not until my tenth birthday that they finally sent for me.”

  “You must have been eager to meet them, by then.”

  “Curious more than eager. I had a Cushite friend who knew my grandfather.” She told them about Natemahar. “He is closer to me than my grandfather ever could be. We have adopted each other, you might say.

  “When my grandfather sent for me, I asked Natemahar, who was visiting Caesarea at the time, what my grandfather was like.”

  Chariline still remembered the conversation. Natemahar had considered silently before answering. “I don’t know him well. But he is very strict.”

  “Strict like he has a lot of rules?” she had asked.

  “Like that. And more.”

  “More, how?”

  “You know how sometimes you say something that makes me roar with laughter and I pull your braid and call you pert?”

  “Aha.”

  “Your grandfather would likely be offended and send you to be
d without supper.”

  “That doesn’t sound nice.”

  “Well, he may be different with you than he is at the palace.”

  He wasn’t, as it happened. Chariline had gone to bed without dinner many times in her childhood.

  Shaking the memory, Chariline said, “When we finally met, my grandparents told me that my father had died and forbade me from ever speaking of him.”

  Hearing the story of how she had accidentally discovered her grandfather’s secret, Galerius whistled. “Gemina always said your grandfather could not bear to be contradicted. Withholding your father from you all these years and lying about it sounds downright cruel to me.”

  Carefully, Chariline placed her cup on the table. “Did my mother ever tell you my father’s name?”

  “Not to me. But she may have revealed it to Vitruvia in one of her letters.”

  Chariline tried to hide her disappointment. God had given her a gift in finding this house. Finding—miraculously, it seemed—Galerius and Vitruvia. If that was the limit of his plan, she would be content.

  “You must return tomorrow,” Galerius said. “All of you. Come for supper. Vitruvia will be back by then and bursting to meet you.”

  Theo hired a covered carriage, and Chariline sat cushioned by Taharqa on one side and Theo on the other, her own personal human shield all the way to the Esquiline hills. Chariline suspected that the carriage was not so much for comfort as a way to offer her an extra layer of protection at night, when the shadows could become a weapon in the hands of a trained warrior. No sooner had she disembarked from the undulating carriage than her hostess sprang upon her enthusiastically.

  Wide hipped and flat chested, just as her letter had claimed, Vitruvia was an elegant woman of middle years sporting an expensive blonde wig and a brilliant smile. Her hazel eyes were already awash in tears before Chariline stepped foot across the threshold. Wrapping her arms around Chariline, Vitruvia cradled her with the abandon of a long-absent mother. Their tears turned into laughter when Vitruvia’s animated embrace knocked her wig sideways.