Aries Fire (29 page)

“He called you his, ‘Rhetman.”

“Yes.  It’s,” Seira paused not knowing how to convey the story behind the title. “I care for the wounded and the sick.  I am educated in treatments,” she said.

“Educated in Egypt?”

“No, I learned how to physician…” Seira paused as she looked at the Empress. 

Eudocia had a way of direct speech that brought Seira’s past into the present with compelling influence.

“I learned how to physician with two learned and wise souls who I have not seen in a very long time.”

Eudocia saw a moment of sadness in Seira.

“My dear, I hope I do not intrude to annoyance,” she said, patting Seira’s hand.

Seira stood and inhaled deeply.  Her emotions swirled.  Seira felt a disturbing and uncomfortable heaviness in her body.

“You could not annoy me, Empress.  It is rather an odd gift to speak to a refined woman,” Seira said.  “My life, until most recently, seemed a monotonous task of survival.  I had almost forgotten all the memories that led me to this day,” Seira said as she walked to the mountain of shelves and admired the books. “It’s been too many years since I’ve read anything,” she said. “Of course, save for a few battle tactics scribbled in the dust,” she laughed.

The Empress stood and joined her, smiling sweetly. 

“I think you must be a remarkable woman,” Eudocia uttered.

“You know so little of me,” Seira rebuffed politely.

“I know enough of a pure bred, educated woman who has survived the Huns to tell of it.  And I know even more of a woman who carries secrets that burden her soul.”

 Eudocia and Seira were the same age, yet Eudocia radiated a well-defined maternal aura.  Eudocia placed gentle, caring hands on Seira’s arms. She slid them down to hold Seira’s hands. Eudocia brought their locked hands to her chest.

“I have lived as long as you, my dear, yet I sense there is more life in you yet to be lived.  Some women endure, Seira. Some women accept their fate gratefully and others become the walking corpses of Hades.  Yet there are other women still, who have countless moments of extraordinary fire waiting to be burned in the deep dark night.”

Eudocia’s inspiring and convincing voice captivated Seira.

“Fire that could start wars. Fire that could heal wounds,” Eudocia said softly then continued, “I make no amends to my statement.  Yes, yes. You are a remarkable woman.”

The Empress wished to learn more about her but withdrew her eagerness out of respect.  Eudocia placed her arm around Seira’s shoulders.  Seira felt relaxed by Eudocia’s personal manner.

“Have not read of late? Well, let us see with what we can arouse your appetite,” she said and squeezed Seira’s shoulder.

They looked up at the collection of scrolls.

“Do you see anything that pleases?”

Seira picked up a scroll written by Scholasticus who once wrote about her mother. She smiled with the memory.

“Ah, a student of history then.  Scholasticus is detailed in his works yet quite dry. Might I also recommend Proclus?  His images peak the senses much more,” she said then added, “He writes much of what and how various cultures eat.  A fascinating subject for me.”

Eudocia wandered down the row of shelves, looking for works of the historian’s accounts.

“I have retrieved it!” the Empress said.

Eudocia waved the scroll as she returned to Seira who stood, almost in the same spot as Leo stood earlier, frozen, staring at a scroll in her hands.

“Oh, have you found something more enticing?”

Eudocia looked to see the author.  It was Hypatia’s book entitled, The Astronomical Canon.

“Are you interested in mathematics and the stars as well?” she asked Seira.

Seira did not respond.  She remembered the day her mother fought with her attempting to coerce Seira into studying The Astronomical Canon.

“She said it would help me to know the positions of the stars by numerical equivalent,” Seira uttered.

Eudocia said nothing and watched Seira open the scroll and lay it across the travertine table.  Seira seemed transfixed, as if she spoke while dreaming.

“That each star’s position held within, the history of the evolution of the cosmos.”

Seira traced her finger over the words and equations set forth by her mother.  Eudocia was mesmerized by Seira’s behavior.

“That if only I understood that, I would far exceed any court astronomer or scientific scholar,” Seira said and raised her voice.

Seira looked up and stared at the past in her mind and held her breath.  She wanted to scream, but instead, rubbed her temples. The scroll sprang back into a roll.  Her fingers trembled as she gripped the Canon.  Seira turned to Eudocia without letting go of the scroll.

“I refused to read it. I didn’t believe her,” Seira said passionately.

The Empress neared Seira and touched her sleeve. Her expression questioned Seira sympathetically.

“I never believed what she told me,” Seira said.

Resentment became dull grief.  Grief unmasked Seira’s anger.  The wound opened, sadness swelled, and Seira began to cry.

The Empress’ eyes filled with empathetic tears.

“I never heard if she told me that she loved me,” Seira said almost inaudibly.

Seira tried to talk hoping it would push her emotions aside. 

“I…I don’t know if I told her….” she cried quietly as Eudocia grabbed her and brought her to the divan and held her tightly.

“My dear, my dear,” she said.

“I never told her,” Seira said.

All the tension, fear, and uncertainty Seira harbored in her body since childhood poured through her and into Eudocia’s heart.  Eudocia felt as if she comforted her own child, so unlike the woman Seira presented moments ago.

“You never told whom?” Eudocia asked.

She sat up a bit and looked at Eudocia.

“My mother,” Seira said and wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.

The Empress smiled with pity, not understanding Seira and gently brushed Seira’s hair from her face.

“I’m sorry, I don’t under…” she began.

“My mother,” Seira whispered and held out the scroll, clutched in her hand.

Eudocia stared blankly at the scroll and then at Seira.

“Oh, by the holiness of God,” said the Empress as she pulled Seira toward her. “Tell her now, my dear.  Tell your mother that you love her,” she said softly then added, “she will hear you.”

The Empress gave Seira a moment of silent, feminine support so lacking in Seira’s life.  Eudocia held Seira and rubbed her back with firm, loving maternal hands. No anger shrieked in Seira’s body, no barter existed between her mood and her mind.  Seira simply emptied her heart of a lifelong sadness in silence. Seira felt a door open within her and from it released much of the past. 

Even Eudocia sensed a maturity develop while she comforted her astonishing guest.  In a short time, the two women shared a liberation of soulful communion.  Seira slowly sat upright and wiped her face.  The Empress lent her an embroidered handkerchief, tucked in a concealed pocket of her dress.  Seira laughed, embarrassed.

“I have lost my senses, Empress, forgive me,” she said.

“My dear, when a woman loses her senses she becomes a man,” said the Empress.

Startled, Seira burst into uncontrolled laughter and was soon joined by the Empress.

“Ohh,” sighed the Empress, with a titter waving her hand in front of her face before composing herself.  She wiped the tears from her eyes with her knuckles and calmed quickly.

“Oh, my.  That was much needed I think,” she said. “So, what a strange and wonderful situation to which I am privy.”

“Yes. I suppose it seems strange to a stranger,” Seira said softly as she relaxed her hand, releasing a crumpled scroll. “I fear I may have ruined your copy,” Seira said.

“Oh!” The Empress expressed amusement. “That is no copy. That is the original,” she said.

Seira was shocked.

“From the library? My mother’s library?  Oh, by the stars!”

“My dear Seira, daughter of Hypatia. Your mother and grandfather had assembled one of the most extraordinary compilations of literary and mathematical works in the civilized world.  That snake of a bishop, Cyril, who puts a stench in my house, ordered the library closed.  Christians and Arabs alike used the books for heating their slovenly meals.  I traveled to Alexandria twice to see your mother and after her death…” she said and paused. “After the horrors beset by the Christians who dare call themselves that, I hastened to Alexandria to save what works I could before they burned them all.  Saturn’s frown and Allah’s plague as I paid a handsome sum for only two works. The other is an edited group of documents of Archimedes’ Dimension of the Circle. I keep them here, safe, for those who might benefit by their existence.”

The Empress stopped abruptly.  She hoped she didn’t overwhelm Seira, who’s mind already exploded with as many questions of her own.  Here sat a woman who knew and revered Hypatia.  Opposite her, sat a woman who was Hypatia’s kin.  Seira wished she could touch Eudocia’s mind with one word and in one instant infuse Eudocia with her own history. 

“You met my mother?” Seira asked.

“Yes, my dear. Although I must say I do not see a striking resemblance,” Eudocia sat back and examined Seira.

“Eudocia. I believe Cyril had my mother murdered,” Seira said.

Eudocia said nothing and stroked Seira’s hair.  The Empress quietly recalled Deacon Leo turning white while standing near the scrolls. Puzzle pieces were all she had, floating in her mind.

Seira sat on the divan and lifted her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself.  Her long hair fell from its tie. Wispy, curly hair draped her shoulders in a relaxed fashion.  Color restored to her face after her tears dried.

“Seira, you are an exceptionally beautiful woman.  I do see a semblance of your mother in the way she carried herself and in her expression.  You carry it, too.  It is a look of profound knowing.”

Seira felt suddenly proud to be likened to Hypatia.  She intuited the Empress’ next query about the identity of her father.  Seira grinned.

“I do not know, Empress,” she said.

Eudocia looked at her, perplexed.

“Who my father is, Empress,” said Seira.

“Extraordinary!  How did you know that those were my exact thoughts? Are you are a seer as well?  As I suspected,” Eudocia said, impressed.

“There was a time I thought so too, but now I believe I am merely insightful into the behavior of humankind.”

“And what, my dear, is the difference? You are as astute as a philosopher, intelligent as a scholar, and as passionate as a lover in waiting.  When the body, the mind, and the spirit are in accord, we see clearly.  Do we not? As I said, like your mother.”

The Empress folded her hands in her lap.  She was an opinionated woman who did not like to be contradicted.  Seira welcomed her wisdom and felt deeply grateful for her company.

“What do you intend for yourself?” she asked Seira.

Seira shrugged in resignation.

“I am in between worlds, Empress.”

“Please, please, call me Eudocia.”

“Eudocia,” Seira started, “My quandary is that I do not know if I am like my mother.  And I am orphaned for as long as I do not know the identity of my father. And by some strange cosmic vexation, I found myself hurled into the world of the Huns. A nomadic existence, I…” Seira stopped speaking suddenly.

Eudocia saw her weariness and confusion.

“Ah, yes.  Well, I cannot speak regarding your father, but allow me to convey an anecdote.  I traveled to meet your mother when I was just fifteen years of age,” Eudocia nodded.  “Yes, to study.  My father was a man of importance and stature.  He took me to be enlightened by your mother.  I praise God for my father, as he was the instrument through whom I sought to save the Alexandrian scrolls.   Ah, your mother.  Yes. I sat in awe in her presence.  There were many students scattered in her salon.” 

Seira envisioned the Empress as a girl and wondered if Eudocia passed her by, while she sat straddled in a tree.  The possibility that the two were so close in proximity so long ago and now seated opposite each other enlivened Seira. 

The world truly is connected somehow, she thought. And everyone does seem to know my mother. She mused silently.

“A young gentleman, of Roman descent, pined so for your mother.  He sent her notes and gazed upon her lovingly during our studies.  This brash upstart visibly provoked your mother. On one such occasion, he, oh, what was his name?  I cannot recall.  In any case, he stood one day, ogling her with an enormous erection, his hand affixed to his manhood!  Imagine the horror of impropriety in a public space,” Eudocia said and laughed.

“And in front of my mother,” Seira chimed in.

Eudocia leaned into Seira.

“Can you imagine what your mother did?”

Listening to the Empress fascinated Seira.  She suddenly felt closer to Hypatia and enjoyed the feeling, as if she shared memories of her mother with a sister.

“Wise Hypatia gathered rags, stained with blood from her monthly cycles and showed them to the hopeful lover and said to him, ‘This is what you love, young man, and it is not as beautiful as the mind!’“

Eudocia sat up and clapped her hands together loudly.  Seira threw her head back and laughed so hard she bellowed. 

“That was my mother,” Seira finally said proudly.

The door beside the bookcase opened.  A young man dressed in long, dark blue tunic emerged from Eudocia’s offices and respectfully entered the library.  His black hair would be curly if it were not cut in Roman fashion.

“Yes Madame Empress? May I be of service?”

“Oh, Paulinus?” The Empress said, confused.

“You called for me, Madame,” he said.

Eudocia looked at Seira.

“Did I? Oh! I clapped,” she said, turning toward her valet. “Paulinus, I apologize for the confusion.  Come as you are already here and meet Seira, daughter of Hypatia of Alexandria.”

Eudocia summoned Paulinus.  Seira felt strangely comfortable being introduced with title. Paulinus, a handsome man, a bit younger than his Empress and Seira, approached the women.  He bowed.  Seira looked at his face. Something in his coloring and outline reminded her of Isaac.  Seira observed his long tunic.  An emblem sewn on his sleeve caught her attention.  She stood.