“No, no. I was only passing by and heard you so eloquently explaining the history of Alexandria and the lighthouse. I was not aware you had become so learned about our city.”
Bellus shrugged and stopped before her. “I have had too much time on my hands since my arrival, I fear.”
She nodded, and the silence grew until she sensed the suppressed amusement flickering across the faces of the men again.
“I should like to learn more, however.” Bellus drew close. “To broaden the education of my men. But some things cannot be learned so well in books.” He was only a breath away from her now. “One must see and touch the thing to know it.”
She feared for a moment that he might touch her and took a step backward.
“Perhaps you would show me the city?”
Sophia felt the flush creep upward from her chest. Must he do this here, in front of his men? “I can arrange for a servant to show you the points of interest—”
“I do not want a servant.” His eyes steadied on hers, holding her captive. “I want you.”
One of the soldiers did succumb then. A quiet snort of amusement, quickly muffled. Bellus did not turn his head, but instead placed himself between his men and Sophia, close enough to block her from their view. Regret shone in those eyes. “I have embarrassed you,” he said quietly. “I apologize.”
She shook her head and lowered her gaze to the floor. “It is nothing. I care not what your men think.” She looked up to him. “I will take you through the city.”
“Now?”
“If you wish.”
“I do.”
Within minutes, they were perched in a two-wheeled cart, with the horse’s reins in Bellus’s callused hands. Sophia stood beside him this time, unlike the last when she had huddled on the floor, bleeding and stunned. The memory seemed to also come back to Bellus. He reached a hand to her chin and tipped her head. “How is that cut?”
She stilled under his touch, inhaling slightly as he ran a gentle finger over the injury.
“You heal well,” he said, then frowned. “I have been insensitive to ask you to return to the city. Would you rather remain in the lighthouse?”
“No.” Sophia looked across the heptastadion. “No, I think a centurion should be protection enough. Besides, I know of no one who wishes me harm.” Except Caesar, who wants my scholars. And whomever sent the killer in the alley. And half the city who hates me for one reason or another.
The air was cooling as they set off, bumping over the rutted road to the causeway. A cloudless sky shone over the two harbors and the water was calm today. But when Sophia glanced back at the lighthouse, her ever-present fortress, she felt like a sand crab pulled from its protective shell.
Once they reached the paved heptastadion, the ride grew smooth and Sophia was able to let go of the side of the cart, no longer afraid of being knocked into Bellus.
He clucked the horse into a trot, and the warm salt air tried to tangle her hair. She closed her eyes to the sting of it, and when she opened them again she found Bellus watching her, smiling. The contented smile she liked best.
She raked her fingers through her hair, smoothing it against the wind, then gripped the front of the cart. Her arm rested near Bellus’s lean and tanned one, where he held the reins. He shifted slightly and his arm brushed hers and remained there.
Sophia fought the tightness in her chest and took a deep breath. How long since I stood this close to a man?
Dangerous. And yet she did not move away.
“Have you been to Athens?” she asked, to break the tension that seemed to build between their arms. “To any of the Greek islands?”
“I am afraid my battles have taken me farther west than east of Rome.”
“Alexandria is more Greece than Egypt, as you told your men. Someday, if you are able, you should sail up the Nile and see the rest of the country to the South.”
“The ancient pyramids?” he asked, as they bumped over the final bridge of the heptastadion and passed the warehouse that held the scrolls for the Library.
“Yes, magnificent. In Giza, Saqqara, Meidum, Dahshur. And farther south, the temples in Luxor and the desert valley where so many ancient kings tried to hide their tombs.”
“They are all robbed, I hear.”
She smiled. “Perhaps. Perhaps there are more to be found.”
“I shall try to visit.”
“The Nile itself is a wonder,” she said. “Flooding its banks every year, swamping the country and leaving precious soil when it departs months later. All that green and fertile land, with the scorching sand of the desert at its edges.”
“You love Egypt.”
She tucked windblown hair behind her ears. “Alexandria is the future, with its academics and its economics. But the rest of Egypt,” she pointed southward through the city, “that is the past.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And the past should never be forgotten.”
Bellus slowed the horse and gave him his head. He pressed his arm against hers with clear intention now. It was warm and strong, and Sophia could not take her eyes from their two arms together. “Tell me of your past, Sophia,” Bellus said softly. “The past you will not forget.”
The story seemed like a solid thing in her chest, all the truth of which she never spoke. She wanted to bring it out, open it up like the box with Kallias’s invention on her desk in the lighthouse. Bring it all out to show to Bellus.
She shook her head, then looked to the city. “What would you like to see first?”
Bellus pulled his arm away and lifted the reins again. “Take me to your favorite place. Show me the best of Alexandria.”
She smiled. “That is an easy task.” She pointed to their right. “To the Library.”
They rode through the central royal quarter in silence, Bellus watching the great palaces slide by, their columned porticoes and marble sculptures gleaming. Past the sphinxes and obelisks that reminded the visitor that this was Egypt after all, and the statues of Pharaohs, left foot striding forward and arms stiff at their sides. Sophia directed him along the coastline, past the amphitheater built into a hill and the Forum where the scholars would often meet with students.
She sighed as the conjoined Museum and Library came into view, and Bellus laughed. “I am surprised you have not holed yourself up here instead of that lighthouse.”
“If there were anywhere else I could live, it would be here.”
A young boy with curly hair and a dirty tunic bounded from the Museum steps to take the reins of the horse. Bellus gave him a coin and promised two more when they returned.
They alighted and Sophia led the climb up to the portico of the Museum. They turned when they reached the columns and looked over the city. From under the shaded roof, they could observe the sea to the left, the Soma Mausoleum where Alexander’s body lay ahead of them, and even the vast gymnasium to their right. The Brucheum quarter of the city seemed filled to overflowing with marble and granite, and with the sun behind them, it took Sophia’s breath away.
Beside her, Bellus quoted, “ ‘Far ahead of all the rest in elegance and extent and riches and luxury.’ ”
She gave him a quizzical look.
“Diodorus Siculus,” he said. “One of your Greek historians who spoke of Alexandria.” He turned to the Museum entrance. “I thought we were to see the Library first.”
She led him to the arched entrance of the building. “To understand the Library, you must first see the Museum.”
Bellus followed her through the halls of the city’s Temple of the Muses, designed to nourish the fertile minds of those who lived there. Various young men passed them as they traversed the main floor, bowing at the waist in recognition of Sophia.
“Who are these men?” Bellus asked.
“Apprentice scholars. Not the main council of twelve.” She smiled. “They are not here. These young men are only beginning their studies. It takes many years to understand the complexities of their chosen discipline, be it mathemati
cs, geography, philosophy, or any other.”
She led him upward first. They climbed a staircase to the upper mosaic terrace of the Museum, where scholars watched the night sky, to chart the movement of the stars and planets. Back to the main floor, and then Sophia led Bellus down another flight of wide steps, twin to those in front, and into a central courtyard laid out in a grid of teeming gardens.
“The scholars enjoy their plants, I see,” Bellus said.
Sophia strode to the center of the courtyard and Bellus followed. Here one stood in the center of a cultivated riot of color, undergirded with green. Sophia trailed a finger over a silky leaf. “It is not merely a matter of enjoyment. Some are horticulturists. They cultivate and cross-breed plants for their beauty, their medicinal uses, for food. This is their laboratory.”
She wandered to a section of rose bushes where she knew Archippos kept his special cuttings and was gratified to see that someone had been pruning and tending in his absence. His protégé, no doubt.
Bellus joined her, once again close enough that their shoulders brushed.
“This one here”—Sophia touched the crimson-edged petals of a white rose—“this is Archippos’s special project. He hybridized a Lotus Pink with a Lily White to breed this beauty.”
“It is lovely. Does he call it the Archippos?”
She smiled and turned away. “It is called the Sophia.”
She wandered to the other side of the courtyard, aware that Bellus followed closely. They ducked into the back of the building, then skirted toward the Library, past private chambers and dining halls. Outside again they arrived at the exotic zoo kept by the scholars. Cages filled with various types of boar lined a small garden enclosure, and monkeys roamed free in the space. Another young scholar knelt in the center, scribbling notes on a papyrus. They approached and saw that he knelt beside a spinytailed lizard.
When he saw Sophia hovering, he scrambled to his feet, scrolls in his arms. “My lady!” He bowed quickly and dropped his papyrus. Bellus retrieved it for him, and he nodded in distraction. “I did not expect to see you—with the others gone—I did not know—”
Sophia touched his arm. “Be at peace, Diodoros. I am only showing our Roman guest here why our Temple is so important.”
The man’s gaze flitted to Bellus, then back to Sophia in confusion, though whether from her friendliness toward the Roman or her kindness toward himself, she could not tell.
The young scholar excused himself, bowing several times too many on his way out of the zoo.
Bellus watched him go, his face set. “I did not realize.”
“What?”
“How much you are respected in this city.”
Sophia shrugged. “Among the scholars, perhaps. And the nobility, I suppose.”
Bellus laughed. “Then it seems you must only win the peasants and you will rule Alexandria.”
She smiled. “Well, there is not much chance of that.”
Bellus turned to her. “Perhaps you should put away the pretense of harshness and let them see what I do.”
There it was again. That pressure in her chest. “It is no pretense, I am afraid. I would need to become a different woman before I deserved their affection.”
“The greatest love is the love we do not deserve.”
Sophia looked to one of the monkeys, hanging from a tree limb. “One of your Roman philosophers?”
He laughed. “Yes. Lucius Aurelius Bellus.”
She couldn’t raise her eyes to his. “And how does one gain this love he does not deserve?”
Bellus was silent a moment behind her. “It is not gained,” he said quietly. “Only accepted.”
Sophia led him forward, not trusting herself to respond. It was time to move on. “Let me show you the Library.”
Twenty-Five
They left the private zoo and crossed to the covered colonnade that led from the Museum to the Library. Two dozen columns lined the walkway, throwing shadows across its marble floor.
Though the Museum was so called because it was the unofficial Temple of the Muses, for Sophia the entrance to the Library of Alexandria was like a portal to the gods. They crossed under the mighty door frame into the first hall dedicated to astronomy. The center of the room contained a series of tables, and the walls were covered with charts. Each wall was broken by a honeycomb of alcoves, stuffed with scrolls of papyrus, and even of leather.
Bellus stood in the center of the room, and Sophia watched him try to take it in. He crossed to a star chart and ran his fingers over the markings. Then to the next chart, and the next, as though he wanted to soak in each drop of what others had learned. He peeked into the alcoves and tried to count the scrolls in one. “So many books? I had no idea there were so many.”
She laughed. “This is only the Astronomy Hall. There are nine more halls.”
His eyes went wide. “Nine more! How do they even remember what books they have?”
“There has always been a Librarian. He catalogs the books as they are brought. Even the scrolls that contain the lists of books take up an immense amount of space.”
“All in one place.” Bellus shook his head.
“Yes, Alexandria has benefited from the questionable collection practices of the Ptolemies, I am afraid. Let us just say, if a Ptolemy asks to borrow scrolls from Rome, do not rely upon getting the originals returned. This is how we have created the greatest Library in the world.”
Bellus turned a circle in the center of the hall, his eyes turned upward to the lofty ceiling. When he looked again to her, he said simply, “Show me the rest.”
She led him through the Poetry Hall, then Mathematics, each of them silent and echoing with their steps. Bellus studied every chart, every room. They passed no one here in the Library, and in the vast silence Sophia felt as though they walked the earth as the first man and first woman.
They reached the central gallery with its branching lecture rooms that altogether could have held the entire Roman legion stationed in Alexandria. Bellus read aloud the words carved high on the wall of the Great Hall: “The Place of the Cure of the Mind.”
Sophia showed Bellus the remaining halls, but he was clearly overwhelmed by what he had seen and grew silent long before they circled back to the main entrance and emerged into the sun. She stopped him on the Library’s portico and gripped his arm. “Do you see,” she said, her eyes pleading with him, “why Rome must not be allowed to overrun Alexandria?”
He covered her hand with his own. “What will be, will be. But I have also seen a thirst for knowledge in Rome, Sophia. What the Greeks have accomplished will not be forgotten. It will be built upon and expanded, I am certain.”
She looked over the marble city and exhaled. “Would that I could be as certain.”
“Come. I am hungry.” He took her hand and pulled her down the Library’s grand steps, then down the street to their waiting horse and cart. Two obols to the boy, and they were on their way again, side-by-side through the city.
Sophia let him take the lead now, and soon saw that they would enter the agora.
After the sacred hush of the Library, the noise and heat and color of the market was like an assault. They left the cart once again and Bellus led her through the agora, as though he knew his destination. Fabric dealers called out to Sophia, their reds and yellows and oranges heavy and inviting. She and Bellus crossed the perfume section, then through the spices. Sophia’s head swam, and still Bellus led her forward.
But when a jewelry dealer hailed Bellus and suggested he take home a bit of gold to his woman, he finally slowed.
The merchant saw his invitation and bustled forward, bony fingers draped with delicate chains. “You and your friend will find good deals here for your ladies,” he said, then flicked a glance at Sophia. She looked away, not needing to see the usual surprise, followed by distress. “Begging your pardon, my lady.” He bowed, bending his ropy neck toward the dirt. “I did not—”
“How much for this one?” Bellus s
aid, and Sophia eyed the beautiful piece, beaded with lapis lazuli on links of gold. She wondered whose neck it would adorn and moved away to study the wares at the next table.
“Sophia, come and try it on.”
She turned back to Bellus. “I am not a fitting subject on which to test its beauty. You should find someone young and pretty to see how it looks.”
Bellus frowned. “But it is for you.”
Sophia jerked her head toward the next merchant. “That is not amusing.”
Bellus returned the necklace to the dealer and drew close to her. “I was not trying to amuse you. I was trying to buy you a gift.”
She studied his face. Is he in earnest? “Look at me, Bellus.” She indicated her tunic, her hair, everything. “I cannot wear that.”
He reached a hand to her throat and traced a line where the necklace would lay. “I think you would look beautiful with those beads around your neck.”
She wanted him to take his hand away before he felt the frantic pounding in her throat. She licked her suddenly dry lips and swallowed. “Even so”—the words came out in a raspy croak—“I cannot accept it.”
He dropped his hand and nodded, as though he knew it had been a foolish idea. “Come, it grows late.”
Indeed, the sun had begun to dip below the marble façade of the city, and the merchants they passed were packing their treasures into crates to await the next market day. Bellus hailed a meat merchant as though he were an old friend. The man’s stained apron stretched over his ample belly, and he swayed as he walked toward them.
“You are late today, centurion.” The big man grinned, a partially toothless smile that brought to Sophia’s mind one of the monkeys they had seen in the Museum’s zoo.
“On a tour of your great city.” Bellus gripped the man’s arm. “Couldn’t pull myself away.”
“Ah”—the merchant bowed to Sophia—“and you have a most knowledgeable guide, I see.”
Sophia nodded a greeting.
“Any pheasant still left?” Bellus peered over the merchant’s shoulder.
Keeper of the Flame Page 18