Jewel of the Nile

by Tessa Afshar

  She reached a hand to straighten the highly decorated curls. “By Jove’s eyeballs! And I did so want to make a good first impression.”

  “I can’t imagine you making a better one, dear Vitruvia,” Chariline said.

  The weather in Rome had grown warm, and Vitruvia had set up a table and couches in the garden for supper. Unlike Priscilla’s courtyard with its wild profusion of potted herbs and flowers, Vitruvia’s garden was large and formal, with a shallow rectangular pool that sported a fountain in the shape of a dolphin spewing fresh water.

  As Chariline reclined on the couch across from Theo, she caught his eye and waved. If not for Theo, she would not be here. In Rome. In this house. She would not have this gift.

  She tried to etch the expanse of her gratitude into her silent gaze. A slow smile curved his lips into a half moon. For a moment, his eyes felt warmer than the breeze, and, distracted, she ignored Galerius and Vitruvia and all the questions that were burning on the tip of her tongue.

  Vitruvia rose to direct one of the slaves as he served the first course, breaking Chariline’s abstraction. Only three of them had been able to attend tonight’s meal since Priscilla and Aquila were hosting a worship gathering at their home.

  “In honor of Gemina, I have ordered all her favorite dishes tonight,” Vitruvia said. “The first course is herb salad, served with pork cured with myrtle. Gemina used to love this recipe.”

  “I’m not familiar with it.” Aunt Blandina preferred simpler food. Chariline tasted a forkful. “Something just melted in my mouth. Might be my tongue.”

  “I could eat the whole platter by myself,” Vitruvia confessed. “Your mother, now, she had an iron control. Like you, she was slender and tall. Lovely girl. Lovely.”

  “How did you meet her?” Chariline asked shyly.

  “I met her in Fanum, where my grandfather’s most famous building is located. I had gone sightseeing at Grandfather’s basilica, like any traveler to Fanum. And there she was.”

  “You had never seen the basilica before?” Chariline asked surprised.

  Vitruvia wiped the corners of her mouth with a delicate linen napkin. “Not until then. My father was not a big fan of architecture. Before my grandfather became a celebrated architect, he was a military man and served as an officer of artillery. My father took after that part of Vitruvius. Joined the army and served for many happy years. But he had no interest in architecture or engineering. Never had any desire to visit Fanum.

  “I, on the other hand, sprang from my mother’s womb with a plumb line in my hand. I never met my grandfather. He was dead long before I was born. But, somehow, I inherited his passion for buildings.”

  Chariline grinned. “I can understand that.”

  Vitruvia assessed her. “My father did not. He could never comprehend why I wanted to learn geometry and design. I had to sneak my grandfather’s books into bed and read them in secret. It wasn’t until I married my dear Galerius, and he was transferred to Fanum, that I was able to visit my grandfather’s crowning glory, the basilica.

  “Imagine my surprise when I found a narrow-boned wisp of a thing, all golden haired and round eyed, walking alone on the roofed colonnade. And measuring the circumference of the columns when she thought no one was looking.”

  Chariline laughed. She could almost picture her mother as Vitruvia described her. “What did you do?”

  “Asked her if I could borrow her leather strip to conduct my own measurements, of course. Together, we examined the triangular trusses, the capitals, and the floor tiles. We discussed the roof, the foundations, and my grandfather’s decision to orient the basilica north to south.

  “We snuck into the screened colonnade in the upper story, which is not open for public use, as it is reserved for business. I’ll never forget how a toga-wearing man with puce skin barked at us to leave. Your mother drew herself up like an empress. ‘It is our business to be here, sir. As students of architecture, I can think of no better place for us to be.’ Then, with great dignity, she offered one end of her leather strip to the man and asked him to help her measure the height of the columns.”

  Chariline snorted. “What did he do?”

  “He did as she asked. Most of us did.” Vitruvia dabbed her eyes with her napkin. “Your mother was several years younger than I. But it mattered little. That afternoon, we began a lifelong friendship. Understanding and devotion like that are rare, child. I hope you will find someone who fills your heart as Gemina filled mine. No one else has ever replaced her friendship.”

  Chariline thought of Mariamne and Hermione. Of their loving acceptance. Their loyalty. Their constancy. “I have known friendship like that,” she said.

  “Then Fortune has smiled upon you.”

  “God has blessed me. I may not have had a mother or father. But I have had the companionship of the best of friends.”

  Chariline wondered if the strong bond holding Vitruvia and her mother together had been forged in one short afternoon. “Is that the only time you saw my mother? That day at the basilica?”

  “Thankfully, no. At the time, Gemina’s father was stationed in Fanum. For five months, we were inseparable. We traipsed through the streets of Fanum, studied the stone Arch of Augustus, and discussed the ingenious tactical walls designed by my grandfather. We dreamed of building our own basilica one day and spent hours designing a city full of buildings. We giggled at jokes only we understood, read my grandfather’s books, tried our hands at gardening.”

  Vitruvia leaned to caress her husband’s cheek. “Galerius accompanied us when his work allowed. Sometimes, when he could sneak away, he even took us to picnic on the coast of the Adriatic Sea.”

  Galerius smiled. “It was an enchanted time.”

  “When your grandfather discovered that Gemina and I were studying architecture, he forbade us from meeting again. He considered me a bad influence, I think. After that, we had to conceal our meetings and could not be together as often.”

  “That explains why my mother felt the need to hide your letters.”

  Vitruvia nodded. “Then your grandfather was sent to Cush and Galerius received a transfer back to Rome. The last time I saw Gemina, she was riding in a carriage on the Via Flamina, headed for Puteoli, where a ship bound for Cush awaited her. We had made arrangements to remain in contact. A friend of Galerius carried letters between us. But we never saw each other again after that.”

  She reached a beringed hand and caressed Chariline’s face. “You have her smile. Her laugh, you know? And the same eyes, though the color is different.” She clapped her hands together and brought the tips of her fingers to her lips. “And she called you Chariline!”

  Chariline arched an eyebrow. “Why did she give me a Greek name? Not a Latin one to honor my grandfather, or a Cushite appellation in memory of my father. But Greek?”

  “Don’t you know?”

  “I asked Aunt Blandina a few times. But she always burst into tears and did not answer.”

  “Ah. I can understand that. Your aunt had a babe once, you see.”

  “My aunt?” Chariline gasped, shocked.

  “Indeed. Very early in her marriage. A little girl. Her only child. She came too early and did not survive. Your aunt named her Chariline, in honor of her husband’s mother. Chariline Blandina. Your mother always said that if she had a little girl, she would name her Chariline. As a consolation to her sister. And here you are.”

  Chariline bowed her head. How many secrets had her family buried? How much pain lay in the ground of her ancestry? Poor Aunt Blandina. Had she thought of her lost babe every time she called out the name of her niece? Had the honor and comfort her mother had intended by the name become, instead, a constant bleeding thorn under Blandina’s skin?

  “Speaking of names.” Chariline leaned forward, her body straining. “Did my mother ever reveal my father’s name to you, Vitruvia?”

  Vitruvia’s hand made a fluttering gesture. “Galerius told me of your predicament, child. It left me spee
chless.”

  “That does not happen often, I can tell you.” Galerius smiled at his wife. “My wife can always think of something to say.”

  “I stayed up half the night trying to remember.” Vitruvia shook her head. “I am sorry, Chariline. Your mother wrote me his name in a letter. Only once. It was a distinctive name. Cushite, I suppose.” She threw her hands into the air. “And now, I cannot recall it.

  “I have dragged half the household from storage room to storage room since dawn, looking for Gemina’s letters. When we moved a few years ago, I lost track of them. I know they are here, somewhere. I would never dispose of her letters. But we can’t seem to locate them.”

  Chariline exhaled. Another wall. Another dead end. “Do you remember anything about him? How did they meet? How did they fall in love?” She hoped some seemingly unimportant detail might yet lead her to him.

  Conversations stopped as two slaves cleared the first course and served the main meal. Raw oysters served on half shells, sitting over a bed of snow from the mountains; roasted lamb chops with peppercorns; and for the egg dish, an asparagus patina. Chariline watched her companions extract their oysters using the pointed handles of their spoons. She put a forkful of something in her mouth and tasted nothing.

  Vitruvia swallowed an oyster and sighed contentedly. “Where were we? Ah yes. How your parents fell in love. It was quite an epic romance. Gemina had been betrothed shortly before she met your father. Your grandfather had insisted on the match, and Gemina had obeyed. Apparently, the young man’s father had promised to aid your grandfather’s career.

  “I was worried for Gemina. I did not see how she could be happy in such an arrangement. The young man in question—I can’t remember his real name, of course, but I always thought of him as Varro—”

  Chariline laughed. Varro meant “blockhead.”

  “This Varro sounded overbearing, demanding that Gemina give up reading and drawing. Everything she loved and enjoyed.” She shrugged. “Young men can be such boors.”

  Theo cleared his throat.

  Vitruvia waved at him. “Not you, child. You are too kind to ever fall into that category.” She straightened her slipping wig. “All those pretty muscles and well-formed features don’t hurt any either.”

  Theo turned pink. Chariline had never seen him so visibly embarrassed. She found it a distinctly enjoyable sight.

  “Your grandfather had already managed to make an unhappy match for your aunt Blandina,” Vitruvia said between bites of lamb. “Sending her off to Caesarea with a man twice her age. He had no idea what his daughters needed. I feared he had created another mess for Gemina. And then, the queen intervened,” Vitruvia said.

  “The queen?” Chariline turned, instantly alert.

  “She is the one the Cushites call Candace, isn’t she? The Candace was responsible for your parents’ meeting.”

  “She was?”

  “Accidentally. But yes. She had arranged a large formal event to which Quintus Blandinus and his family had also been invited. Your father was the son of the Candace’s close friend and was present that night. They were grooming him for some official position. What was it? Let me see. Something to do with numbers or money, I think.”

  “A treasurer?” Chariline squeaked.

  “Yes! That’s right. He was being groomed to serve as a treasurer.”

  Sesen! Sesen was her father!

  CHAPTER 23

  I will give you a new heart.

  EZEKIEL 36:26

  Unaware of the import of what she had just revealed, Vitruvia went on. “It was Gemina’s first experience of the Cushite court. As you can imagine, she felt tense and unsure in such unfamiliar surroundings. Your mother was not one for pomp and circumstance. A slave startled her when he showed up silently at her side, and Gemina upended a platter of food on her tunic.

  “Dear Varro thoughtfully barked out some rude comment about her clumsiness, loud enough for the whole room to hear. That’s when your father came to Gemina’s rescue. He assured her that she had done them all a favor since the platter contained some awful food, like pickled crocodile brains and tails. He was making it up, of course, but by the time he was finished, Gemina was laughing so hard the queen asked to meet her. She called Gemina charming.”

  “The Kandake?” Chariline could not believe the Kandake even knew the word.

  “Yes. Apparently, she was quite an intimidating woman, though still young at the time.”

  “She is still an intimidating woman.”

  Vitruvia straightened. “You’ve met her?”

  “Not officially.” Chariline placed her morsel of lamb back on the plate, uneaten. “Ran into her a couple of times. Not an experience you forget.”

  “Well, somehow, Gemina managed to be quite a hit with the queen that evening.”

  “Too bad the Kandake could not remember that when she sent my mother packing for Caesarea.”

  “Oh, that was your grandfather. The queen merely handed Gemina to Quintus Blandinus and left him to it.”

  Chariline fought to keep the disgust out of her voice. “No wonder my mother decided to elope.”

  “Yes. Your grandfather could be callous. But I expect you know that.”

  Chariline gave a dry smile. “That’s the night they fell in love, then?”

  “It started then. A few days after the banquet, Gemina ran into him at the cemetery. She sent me a few drawings of those pyramids. Not as grand as the ones in Egypt. But still wonderful. She had gone there to sketch one for me, and your father appeared.”

  “What was he doing there?” Theo asked.

  “Visiting his uncle’s memorial.” Vitruvia shrugged. “Some things are meant to be. The two of them began a secret friendship. At first, that was all. All they thought they could have. Gemina was drawn to your father’s gentleness, so different from Quintus Blandinus. In the end, they could not pretend to mere friendship any longer.

  “They knew that marriage meant they would have to give up everything. Home. Family. Security. They made that sacrifice willingly. They planned to come to Rome. Galerius and I intended to help them.”

  “But the Kandake captured them before they could escape,” Chariline guessed.

  Vitruvia nodded. “They came close to getting away. At the very last, they discovered that the Candace had laid a trap for them. Gemina was separated from your father that day and never saw him again.”

  With a sigh, Vitruvia pushed her plate away. “It is hard to believe such sweet love could end in tragedy. It never occurred to me, when I waved good-bye to Gemina all those years ago at Fanum, that I would never see her again. That she would be lost to us so soon.” Vitruvia’s tears flowed again.

  She reached a hand and caressed Chariline’s hair. “But here you are. Her daughter. She has left a part of herself in you.”

  Could hearts crack? Break, shatter, and still beat? Vitruvia’s words, meant as a kindness, tore into Chariline, a sharp finger of accusation rupturing their way into old places.

  Chariline unraveled.

  She felt a fraud, a welcome guest into this home when she was, in fact, the cause of Vitruvia’s tears.

  “I am the reason she is dead!” she wailed. “She died giving birth to me.” Guilt licked her with its acrid tongue, and she cringed at the pain she had caused this dear woman by coming into the world.

  Vitruvia sat up straight. “By Jove’s silky beard! You blame yourself?”

  Chariline’s throat constricted, cutting off her words. Which was a good thing, since she had none to offer.

  “Don’t you dare, child! I knew your mother like I know myself, and I can tell you this: She longed for a child. She always wished for a daughter. A little girl of her own. She had chosen your name before she ever met your father. And I will tell you one thing more: she would willingly have laid her life down for you.”

  “I was so big, you see.” Chariline choked.

  “So? You might as well blame Gemina for having narrow hips. For leaving yo
u motherless. For abandoning you to her dull family.”

  “I could never do that!” Chariline gasped.

  “But you can blame a helpless babe.”

  Chariline twined her fingers together until they ached. “It was not an even exchange. Me for her. She should have been the one who lived.” Not until the words leapt out of her mouth did Chariline realize how deeply rooted they were. How absolutely true they felt to her soul. For twenty-four years, she had carried this burden.

  The wrong person had survived that day. The wrong person had been taken.

  Gemina, beautiful Gemina. Beloved Gemina. The one whose death had crippled and scarred so many people. The one whose talents still made the world more luminous. Gemina should have lived.

  “Chariline,” Theo said. Only her name. Nothing more. But in the tone of his voice, the expression of his face, the melting warmth of his eyes, something like understanding passed into her, sank into her bones, settled.

  He knelt on one knee before her. “I know,” he said. He looked into the sky, lit now with a full moon and a ghostly parade of slow-moving clouds, swallowed, and turned his attention back to her. “I know this thing you carry.”

  He offered no advice. No correction. Merely the simple grace of understanding. He held her hand tight in his own and smiled a broken smile.

  Chariline realized, with perfect clarity, what he meant. That he knew, in his own soul, the same guilt. The same regret. And although he did not explain himself, his words, his gaze, his warmth were enough.

  She had reached the bottom of her poisoned well tonight. Pulled from its stinking ground the putrid source of years of contrition. Watched the mirror of her soul and heard the words of accusation that had haunted her silently for twenty-four years.

  The wrong person survived that day. The wrong person was taken.