The Stone Golem

by Mary Gentle

  Down the path between them, across the S. Barnaba campo, a well-padded male figure strolled, not shivering despite his linen kilt and bare legs. His scarlet cloak flowed out behind him, light sparking from the fabric where droplets of rain lodged in the weave.

  He stopped before the iron of the gate, a yard or two of space separating us.

  His features took me back instantly to another city and another embassy. I found myself rubbing my hands one against the other, as if my skin felt still sticky from trying to pry stone fingers out of Mastro Masaccio’s throat.

  The Alexandrine cast a leisurely eye around, the uproar from the Doge’s soldiers quietening as he did so, and ended with a nod of greeting to Rekhmire’.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Lord Menmet-Ra remarked. ‘Am I interrupting something?’

  4

  He seemed so consciously pleased with his pose that a man could hardly resent it.

  Inadvertently, I broke the silence. ‘You’re not in Rome!’

  Heads turned. I blushed. That sounded foolish!

  I had thought that, having drawn so many sketches now of Masaccio in ink or silverpoint or charcoal, I had begun to have difficulty in remembering Masaccio himself. This tall round eunuch in Alexandrine kilt and lapis-lazuli collar returned Masaccio’s dead features intensely to my mind.

  ‘Ilario.’ He nodded to me.

  ‘Lord Menmet-Ra,’ I apologised.

  The last time I saw the Alexandrine, he had been dishevelled and in a night-robe, Masaccio’s blood staining the hem. The torchlight gave him stature, although he was still clearly fleshy. He carried an air of authority that he had barely seemed to in Rome.

  He added, ‘I was hoping to speak with you, Messer Ilario. I have a message for you, from the Pharaoh-Queen Ty-ameny.’

  It may have been anticipation or dread, or only the icy wind, that made my eyes water and my throat ache.

  Menmet-Ra turned back, raising his high tenor voice that rang over the darkening square.

  ‘Go home, men of Venezia! This is Alexandrine soil–as much so as the ambassadorial warship in San Marco basin, that has brought me to your city. Go ask your superiors if they wish to offend the Pharaoh-Queen through her newest ambassador, before you rashly act here!’

  Heads bowed together in the dusk; I heard whispered consultation.

  The officers and men of the Council of Ten faded into the darkness, only boots echoing between the high brick walls to mark their departure.

  The gate being unbarred with a clash, Menmet-Ra signalled his men to follow, and swept through with some gravitas, despite his body having the smoothness of fat rather than muscle. I did not truly note what words he and my father exchanged, but I stumbled dumbly in their wake, back into the house.

  Established in a carved chair by the great hearth in the main room, the Alexandrine looked unhappily at Rekhmire’’s crutches, and then lifted his kohl-lined eyes.

  ‘Ty-ameny says you must bring the German. As to the other matter…’

  ‘Carrasco.’ Rekhmire’ spoke brusquely. ‘Fetch wine.’

  Ramiro Carrasco went out, wordless. Lord Menmet-Ra extended his hands to the fire. There were goose-bumps on his arms, despite the oncoming spring, I saw. The waters of Venice make anywhere cold, no matter if you’re used to Taraco or Constantinople.

  ‘Well, our cousin got me at last…’ He looked up ruefully at Rekhmire’. ‘You see before you the newest appointee to the position of Ambassador in Venezia.’

  ‘So I gathered,’ Rekhmire’ remarked dryly, seating himself on the oak settle by the fire. I took a place silently beside him, as quiet as slaves are when hoping not to be noticed.

  ‘With a warship?’ Rekhmire’ added, one brow raised.

  ‘Trireme,’ the older man’s light voice said. ‘I believe the Queen, all praise to her ten thousand ancestors, thinks the Doge of Venice needs a reminder who rules the eastern seas, and not merely some few fathoms of the Adriatic…’

  They exchanged looks that I thought in less professional men would have been broad grins.

  ‘…And so no making my way here on hired boats,’ the new ambassador concluded. ‘I come with flags, banners, arbalests, a company of marines, and all to impress. Ah—’ Menmet-Ra rose to his feet with the grace of a much thinner man. ‘Lord Honorius.’

  My father pulled the door closed behind him and Ramiro Carrasco, stepping forward, and giving the impression he ignored Carrasco as the younger man served wine into Venetian goblets.

  ‘I’ve got my sergeant sorting your men into quarters. Just as well I’m leaving, or we’d be sleeping six in each bed!’

  Honorius had discarded sallet and sword, and was in nothing more martial than a pleated doublet and hose. Nonetheless, as he crossed to the hearth and planted himself with his back to the fire, no man could have taken him for anything else but a soldier.

  I knew my father well enough, now, to realise this entirely deliberate.

  ‘I hear you want to speak with my son-daughter,’ he added bluntly, flipping up the back of his doublet-skirts to take best advantage of the heat on his arse.

  If the subject had not put a thrill of fear through me, I might have snickered at the Lion of Castile playing the blunt mercenary commander.

  All but inaudibly, Rekhmire’ murmured at my ear, ‘How long do you suppose it will take to house-train the man?’

  His fellow Alexandrine heard, as I thought he had been intended to. Encourage him to underestimate the Iberian barbarian…

  Menmet-Ra seated himself again, and spoke with deliberation. ‘If you are aware of an incident in Rome, at which Ilario was present—’

  Honorius nodded curtly. I chose it as my moment to interrupt.

  ‘Lord Menmet-Ra.’ I leaned forward on the settle, my gaze on him. ‘The…statue. Golem. Did it go to Alexandria? Did anyone finish painting it? Is it still in Rome?’

  Honorius’s brows went down as if someone had pinched a thumb and finger full of flesh over his nose. ‘Ilario, you will not go anywhere near that monstrosity!’

  I had described Masaccio’s death; I could not make him feel or smell what the reality had been like. Meeting Menmet-Ra’s gaze, I saw under his self-possession, an identical fear to mine.

  ‘The gift of Carthage,’ the Egyptian ambassador emphasised slightly, ‘is in Alexandria, now. The painting of it remains unfinished. I escorted the gift from Rome to Alexandria myself.’ He paused. ‘Not on the same ship with it.’

  I might have laughed if I had not been moved to shudder.

  Rekhmire’ looked across and curtly signalled Carrasco to leave. I rose and took the wine glasses around myself. Not that it will make a difference to have Ramiro Carrasco hear anything–but I understand why Rekhmire’ prefers his absence.

  Lord Menmet-Ra nodded thanks and sipped at wine from a sea-blue glass. He looked up.

  ‘I see you’re made free now.’

  He thus neatly avoided using the terms freeman or freewoman to me.

  ‘In which case, I can now extend the request of the Pharaoh-Queen in person, to you, that you come to Alexandria—’

  ‘No prodding!’

  The words fell out of my mouth without my expecting it.

  Rekhmire’ put his hand lightly over his eyes. Honorius grinned.

  ‘I mean,’ I managed, ‘that I have no wish to end with the doctors of Alexandria examining me.’

  Menmet-Ra smiled across at Rekhmire’ with the ease of long friendship.

  ‘I’ve had too much of that kind of interest before,’ I said levelly. ‘Being hermaphrodite.’

  Menmet-Ra’s kohl-darkened brows went up. ‘Ah! No. Although I dare say there are many of our scientists who would like to examine you. But my business with you is not to do with that.’

  My business with you.

  The golem’s fingers a joint deep into Masaccio’s larynx as he and I both tore with useless human hands at motionless stone.

  No…I suppose that business was not going to be done with so eas
ily.

  The large, fat Alexandrine put the tips of his fingers together. With all the appearance of good humour, he said, ‘The Pharaoh-Queen Ty-ameny has no hold over you, not being the slave of one of her people now. Nonetheless, she requests, if you can, that you come to Alexandria, and tell how it was that Masaccio died. There was no one but you and he alive in that room with the stone engine when it killed him. If you could bear witness…’

  He left an encouraging gap into which I could speak my agreement.

  I looked at Rekhmire’.

  The book-buyer shifted where he sat on the wooden settle. ‘Ilario, you will understand that this “gift of Carthage” is partly an encumbrance, partly a dare–and, I imagine, the Queen’s advisers are now afraid, partly a trap.’

  ‘I understand.’ It was too much to resist. I moved to lean on the back of the settle, and looked equably at Menmet-Ra. ‘I understand that Carthage is giving this one of their golems to Alexandria because the thing can be used as a weapon–even if it hasn’t yet–and the Lords-Amir are showing off. Daring you to discover how it walks and moves and obeys. Because they’re convinced you won’t be able to.’

  The skin around Menmet-Ra’s eyes crinkled. ‘Masaccio hired no stupid apprentices, I note.’

  It made me grin, until what occurred in Rome crashed down on me again.

  ‘I’ll be frank.’ The Alexandrine ambassador glanced at Honorius. ‘Since Rekhmire’ reports you and your father trustworthy.’

  Oh, does he?

  The book-buyer was none too eager to meet my eye.

  Menmet-Ra continued. ‘Any gift from Carthage to Alexandria is likely to be a poisoned chalice–Lord Honorius, as a military man, you will understand this.’

  Honorius inclined his head in the Iberian fashion, said nothing, but appeared to listen willingly enough.

  ‘It is a concealed threat. Yes, they show us this one of their weapons, and leave us to guess at what else they might have devised. They show they’re certain enough of no other man investigating the golem’s secrets by giving us the gift of one. And the more our scientist-philosophers baffle themselves examining this golem, the more powerful Carthage grows in our minds…and the more fearful of them Alexandria is.’

  Menmet-Ra looked up, addressing me directly.

  ‘After the events in Rome, I made my report from your eye-witness statement. But it is still only my report. You were the one that saw. There are those at home who would have the Pharaoh-Queen turn down this “golem”–I think rightly so. Suppose it were to run amuck one day in the courts of Alexandria? How many could it kill, before it was overwhelmed? And, most importantly, if it has hidden orders that send it against Ty-ameny herself…’

  I opened my mouth to speak the obvious suggestion.

  ‘No.’ Rekhmire’ raised a brow at me. ‘The Pharaoh-Queen–all worship to her ten thousand God-ancestors–is very nearly as stubborn as you are. There is no chance of dropping the thing into Alexandria’s harbour!’

  Menmet-Ra gave Rekhmire’ a look I couldn’t identify. ‘The Pharaoh-Queen, all praise to her ten thousand God-ancestors, does not desire to look frightened in front of Carthage! Which if she refuses the gift, or sends it away, or visibly incapacitates it, she will. But it is not safe to have near her.’

  The truth would not greatly benefit me, but I spoke it all the same. ‘I don’t know what else I can add to what I told you in Rome.’

  ‘Nevertheless. She very much desires to speak with you,’ Menmet-Ra said. ‘As soon as you feel you might come to Alexandria-in-exile.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I got in, before Rekhmire’ or Honorius could speak. ‘But, obviously, I’ll need to talk this over with my family.’

  ‘Of course.’ Menmet-Ra stirred himself, finishing his wine. ‘I shall hope to speak to you again. Before I completely immerse myself in opening this embassy for business.’

  His smile was amiable, but the sensation was odd: to hear that what has felt like my house belongs to this stranger.

  Menmet-Ra added, ‘And on that subject–I should speak to Neferet.’

  ‘Ah.’ Rekhmire’ blinked, with the expression of an amiable lizard. ‘I believe I also have matters I should discuss with you.’

  Honorius spoke gracefully-extricating farewells, grabbed me firmly by the elbow, and I followed his lead in leaving the room.

  ‘We’ll talk it over,’ Honorius muttered, ‘but not near my export glass!’

  ‘Sorry.’

  He patted my shoulder, with a wry smile.

  Glancing back as we mounted the stairs to his rooms, he added, ‘This is no opportunity to miss–if Master Rekhmire’ can persuade his ambassador into it, you might make your way to Alexandria on one of their warships. That would greatly ease my mind about your safety.’

  I closed the shutters against the chill early evening, and plumped down on a linen chest, wincing as my stitches twinged. ‘I imagine Rekhmire’ will be escorting Herr Gutenberg and his mechanical copyist on that ship. Before the Doge decides he can search the embassy.’

  ‘Well, then. It never hurts to have a highly-placed man in court, to introduce you to his sovereign.’

  It took me a moment to realise that my father meant Rekhmire’.

  But, yes, he is more than a book-buyer.

  I watched Honorius put a taper to the oil lanterns. Swelling yellow light limned his hair and cheekbone.

  ‘Alexandria is half a world from Taraco,’ Honorius said thoughtfully. His eyes were lucid in the soft shadows. ‘Outside Frankish territories, too. The Pharaoh-Queen won’t need Videric’s influence or friendship, even if he had any to give. And you’re intelligent enough to answer her questions about that stone blasphemy and still avoid going into the same room with it. Of all the places for you to be, while I return home…’ He smiled at me. ‘You may even learn something!’

  ‘I’ve seen Alexandrine art. It’s all toes-pointing-down. And chests face-on and faces in profile. The New Art’s here, in the Italian cities!’

  ‘So are Videric’s informants,’ Honorius said dryly. ‘You know, I wonder if my estates at Taraco ought not to have some Alexandrine work, as well as Italian? I hear they make faïence tiles, and amazing enamel-work.’

  I gave him a look. ‘What would you know about enamel work unless it was on the pommel of your sword?’

  Honorius grinned. ‘I can learn.’

  He brought bread and cheese, and another bottle of his better wine, and set them on a bench by us, reaching out for a braided-stem glass and tilting it against the light.

  ‘I don’t like dragging a youngling all around the middle sea,’ he observed, and shot me a keen glance. ‘Better she’s with you, though.’

  I am by no means so sure.

  ‘And you need have no concern for money, or worry that you’ll find yourself dependent on the book-buyer’s charity.’

  In another mood, that would have made me bristle. ‘I’d sooner not be dependent on any other source–but I doubt I can keep myself and Onorata on encaustic wax funeral portraits in Alexandria!’

  Honorius snorted. ‘I intend to leave you half the household men-at-arms,’ he added.

  ‘We had this quarrel in Rome!’ I chewed at the dark gritty bread. ‘You’ll make me noticeable—’

  ‘That hardly matters now!’

  ‘—and you’ll rob yourself of men you need to have with you.’ I met his pale eyes, and held his gaze. ‘If you go to Taraco with only a small number of soldiers, Aldra Videric or Rodrigo Sanguerra will think the best solution to the problem you pose is a quick death, or quietly vanishing into one of the King’s prisons. You must know this!’

  ‘I want you to be safe! I should have bought you when you were still a slave. You’d have been so much less trouble!’

  ‘I wouldn’t count on it!’ Rekhmire’’s voice came from the doorway. At Honorius’s beckoning gesture, he took the armed chair nearest the hearth.

  Putting his crutches down, and allowing his forearms to rest along the arm
s of the wooden chair, he for a moment resembled one of the Pharaoh-Kings of Old Alexandria, heir to a thousand generations of history. The lantern-light made sculpture of his face.

  With an entirely irreverent-to-history gleam in his eyes, he murmured, ‘I’ve given Pamiu much to think on, while he arranges this household to his satisfaction! Ilario, are you inclined to risk another sea-voyage?’

  ‘To Constantinople?’ I shrugged. ‘I can tell your Queen Ty-ameny what I saw. I doubt it will help. It will tell her nothing except that the golem…obeys orders. And I suspect they know that.’

  ‘You don’t know what her philosopher-scientists will discover from what you saw.’ Rekhmire’ spoke in an eminently reasonable tone.

  ‘I still say I should go back to Taraco and have it out with Videric!’

  Honorius made a growling noise beside me, and I found myself in receipt of his ‘you-lower-than-dirt-new-recruit’ glare.

  ‘Alexandria is your best choice.’ Rekhmire’ spoke unusually abruptly. ‘If only as a shelter. A place to rest. To give you time to think, to plan, to—’

  ‘—be prodded by every one of the Pharaoh-Queen’s philosophers because they’ve never seen a true hermaphrodite before!’

  Rekhmire’’s brows went up. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say never. You’re not unique, you know.’

  My temper was uncertain, but I managed to avoid that particular inviting trap, and grin at the book-buyer. Which, although less satisfying than throwing breakable objects, still pleased me greatly when I saw his startled look.

  More because I desired to bait him than by way of serious argument, I said, ‘You should let me send word to Videric, and meet him, and settle the matter.’

  Rekhmire’ snapped like a bad-tempered mastiff. ‘Certainly, if you met, it would settle the matter–with a freshly-dug grave! Ilario, come to Alexandria.’

  I grinned at him to let him know he’d been provoked. ‘Maybe I should have left Venice with my husband.’

  Honorius rested his chin on his sun-darkened fist. ‘If Madam Neferet sees you in Master Leon’s company he’ll probably flay the skin off your face before you reach the Arno!’