Selene of Alexandria (36 page)

Chapter 28

Cyril surveyed the council delegation from behind a screen, surprised to see Calistus, hands trembling on a walking stick. The Councilor had not been seen in public for several weeks. Calistus' presence gave Cyril pause. The councilor must feel deeply about his mission to risk his health. But Calistus did not know God's will. Cyril did.

The clergy, students, mariners and merchants continued their vocal support, but the nobles and councilors pretended horror at his most recent actions. They came to urge the Patriarch to some accommodation with the Prefect. Cyril clenched his fists. Orestes had set himself on the side of the pagans and Jews. There could be no accommodation unless the Prefect admitted the error of his ways.

Hierex touched his sleeve. "Are you ready, Patriarch?"

"Yes." He patted his robes and smoothed his beard. "Let's set them on the right path."

As he entered, all stood and bowed. Cyril stopped in front of Calistus. "Councilor. I'm honored by your attendance, but shouldn't you be in bed or overseeing the progress of your daughter's illness? I heard she risked her own life to nurse the sick. Be assured our prayers are with her."

"Thank you, Patriarch, for your blessings. Your prayers will surely help." Calistus bowed low. "But we have come on a matter most urgent."

"Please be seated." Cyril took an imposing Bishop's chair, while the rest settled on benches and stools. "My companion is Hierex, a teacher and my secretary. How may I be of service?"

Calistus spoke for the delegation. "As the leaders of our city, we have come to beseech you to desist in your actions and seek accord with the Augustal Prefect."

"Only a few hotheaded youths devised that plan. You are a young man without the experience of our grayer heads. We feel you were wrong to lead a mob against old people, women and children who had nothing to do with that conspiracy."

Cyril swallowed his anger at the rebuke. He needed the support of these men. He motioned, palms down, fingers spread wide as if in supplication. "I welcome your advice, but fail to see my error. I could not allow such a heinous crime to go unpunished."

Calistus' eyes held a haunted look. "The Prefect is responsible for maintaining the peace. You had no right to lead armed men against Alexandrian citizens."

"The Prefect failed to protect innocent Christians." Cyril raked the gathering with fiery eyes. After assessing their unyielding faces, he sat back, sighing sorrowfully. "You should be pleased that my actions resulted in a large number of conversions. Those Jews are saved."

"And those expelled from the city?"

"The nonbelievers may return to their homeland." Cyril flicked his fingers in a dismissive gesture. "After all, those 'citizens' live in a Christian Empire. If they do not convert, they are welcome to relocate beyond our borders."

Another councilor stood, in the back. "Our workshops are empty of skilled workers. Shipping is disrupted. We cannot fulfill our contracts for goods. When our businesses fail, we cannot do our duty to city and church."

"Thousands move to the city every week looking for work." Cyril shrugged. "You will soon fill your workshops."

"Illiterate Egyptian peasants!" the councilor sputtered. "I'm talking about the loss of skilled artisans – potters, weavers, dyers, bricklayers. The farmers who come here to escape the land taxes are a drain on our resources, not an asset."

Calistus interrupted his colleague with soothing tones. "We realize the fate of our Jewish citizens is past remedy, but the intolerable situation between you and the Prefect still remains. We ask you to take the first step in mending the breach with Orestes. Patriarch, show the city some leadership reflective of the New Testament. Do not the texts say 'Blessed are the peacemakers'?"

Cyril nodded. "A most noble proposal. This rift is not of my making or inclination. I would be most happy to approach the Augustal Prefect, if he is willing to receive me." Cyril steepled his hands and touched fingertips to bottom lip. This could work to his benefit.

"We ask only that you both meet in good faith to reconcile your differences." Calistus' face lightened with honest relief.

"I agree nothing good can come of this continuing discord between us." The Patriarch widened his eyes and addressed the whole room. "The city needs unity. With the Jews no longer whispering in Orestes' ear, I'm sure we can come to some agreement." The Patriarch bowed his head to simulate penitence. "It was never my intent to cause misery. I am aware of the difficulties presented to innocent Christians through disrupted trade and the threat of plague. Even as we speak, our brothers and sisters minister to those outside our gates. As to the Prefect, I will wait on him shortly to discuss our mutual interests."

Calistus beamed. "We will be happy to work on your behalf. Orestes is a reasonable man. I'm sure you'll reach an accord."

"Of course." Cyril addressed the gathering. "I will again offer my support and guidance to the Prefect."

The delegation rose, bowed to the Patriarch, and made small talk as they left.

"A most satisfactory outcome, don't you think?" Cyril smiled at Hierex. "Those same parties that urge me to accommodation also approach Orestes. His coalition is falling apart. We have stripped him of the Jews; the nobles and councilors take a neutral stance. Now is the time to approach him."

"There is still one powerful obstacle." Hierex added slyly. "Hypatia still stands at the Prefect's side, poisoning him with her pagan philosophy. He no longer attends Christian services. Many others listen to her as well."

"I have seen the crowds around her door, waiting for her to speak." A slow red flush suffused Cyril's face. "Yes, she is a fierce lion in our path. My Uncle Theophilus admired her and suffered her to teach, but these are different times." He tapped his teeth with a fingernail. "We must be clever in how we wean our Prefect away from her unwholesome advice. She is a venerable woman, almost an icon in the city."

"But not invulnerable." Hierex frowned. "Everyone has a weakness. I will find hers."

Selene woke to the silence of late night. An oil lamp burned on her stand. She rolled onto her side, the effort making her pant. Why was she so weak and desperately thirsty?

A shadow detached itself from the wall and hobbled toward her. Selene's heart thudded painfully until the shadow resolved into an ancient woman.

"Mother Nut," she whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"Drink this." She held a cup to Selene's lips. It was a cooling mint drink with an undertone of anise. Selene collapsed to her back. Mother Nut poured another cup. "Drink as much as you can, child."

Selene raised her head for the second cup. Memories flooded back. She grabbed Mother Nut's hands. "Rebecca? My family?"

"All are well. Rebecca is recovering nicely. I let no one near you and ordered all to drink only unwatered wine or beer. Meat or fowl only, no food from the sea. The gods have seen fit to spare your household."

Selene sighed in relief and thought more closely about what her mentor had told her. She didn't recall any such remedies in her textbooks. Selene's professional curiosity piqued. "How does the drinking of wine and eating of meat help prevent the plague?"

"It's not what is eaten, but what is not." Mother Nut shrugged. "The gods require a sacrifice. Sometimes, when people give up water and what comes from water, the gods' anger passes them by." She grinned broadly, showing a clove of garlic stuck on one of her few remaining teeth.

Selene smiled weakly in return. "And garlic helps ward off evil." She plucked at her bed covering and peeked at the old woman between crusted lashes. "How soon can I be out of bed?"

"We barely snatched you from Anubis' jaws, child." Mother Nut frowned and clucked. "Stay in bed for a week and we'll see."

"A week!" Selene squealed. "But I promised Archdeacon Timothy." An overwhelming lethargy crept up her limbs. Her eyes grew heavy and she yawned. "Well, maybe," she mumbled, and drifted off.

After three days' convalescence, Mother Nut allowed Calistus to visit Selene. He looked frail, but had put on weight, and his color was much improved. He attributed this to a special diet of garlic and lentils and a daily walk Mother Nut had recommended.

"A remarkable old witch," he laughed. "She gets me to do things no one else could. If I didn't know better, I would say she cast a spell on this household. The servants walk in fear of her, but every one of them follows her orders and no one is sick."

Selene's nose twitched at the thought of the servants' precautions. "And after a while, you don't even notice the reek of garlic, I suppose."

"No, I don't."

"Has the plague reached the city?"

Calistus shook his head. "It seems confined to the camps. They're nearly empty now. Most of the poor souls have either moved on or died." His face settled into a pained expression.

"Only one." He sighed. "There's a strange story about a woman they called the Gray Lady. She cared for the children until the last died, then walked into the Boukolia with no food or water. No one has seen her since. Some say she was the Blessed Mother Mary come to care for the children and see they made it safely to heaven."

"The Virgin Mary helped, even though they were Jews?" Selene frowned. The woman helping in the children's ward had seemed flesh and blood to her.

"A monk baptized them as they were brought in."

Of course! Baptism cleansed the soul of all former sin. Many, including the Emperor Constantine, put off baptism till their deaths to insure they went directly to heaven. The unfairness of redemption for a life lived deliberately in sin pricked Selene's sense of justice. Sometimes the paradoxes of religion made her head ache. She longed for happy news. "Is Honoria well?"

"The babe grows great and Lysis claims Ision daily regales him with predictions of a strapping grandson."

"Have they been here?"

"Antonius comes by daily to inquire about your health on Honoria's behalf. Lysis accompanied me in a delegation to meet with the Patriarch." Calistus snorted. "Ision did not attend. He's in favor of Cyril's actions and stands to improve his profits greatly by buying Jewish businesses for far less than they are worth. I would have thought Ision had gold enough and would turn his thoughts and energy to more gentlemanly pursuits."

She thought of Antonius, sadness swelling her throat. "Does Lysis regret the match?"

"No. Antonius seems happy enough and Honoria is a loving daughter-in-law." Calistus sighed. "Lysis and I had once talked of marriage between you and Antonius, but he cooled on the idea when Ision approached him. I'm sure the boy is better off with a biddable wife. You can be more than a handful traipsing off to do your own will." Calistus looked at her lovingly. "I'm just grateful you are alive. Mother Nut is a most remarkable healer for an unschooled Egyptian."

"Why did you send for her?"

"You cried out for her when you collapsed." He flushed slightly. "I wanted Urbib, but he disappeared during the troubles. He recently returned as a Christian convert, but Mother Nut had already worked her miracle on you. Rebecca made quite a persuasive case on her behalf." Calistus chuckled. "The old crone would only come if I provided a litter 'like a real lady'."

"And why shouldn't I be treated like a real lady when I come to such a great house as this?" Mother Nut cackled from the door. "Now you, sir, be gone. My dumpling needs her rest."

Calistus bowed deeply to the old woman. "As the Lady commands." He turned to Selene and lightly kissed her cheek. "I'll be back tomorrow."

Selene started to protest, took one look at Mother Nut's face and subsided into silence. Her questions would wait.

"Patriarch Cyril." Demetrius bowed as he opened the door.

Orestes had anxiously awaited this meeting. His friends on the council had told him Cyril would privately apologize for his unwarranted actions and had agreed to cooperate in restoring the peace. Orestes prepared to be gracious in accepting the apology, but firm about the Patriarch's future role. He hoped Cyril would be satisfied with his victories, or at least take some time to savor them. Orestes needed to realign his political support.

The Patriarch entered carrying a sumptuously wrapped bundle. A dozen church officials crowded into the sitting room after Cyril. Among them, Orestes recognized Hierex glaring balefully at him. Orestes held his dismay in check. He had planned a private meeting, where he and the Patriarch could work out their differences. He deliberately kept his contingent intimate – just Demetrius – to minimize the Patriarch's embarrassment.

"Demetrius, more chairs for the Patriarch's entourage." Orestes rose. "Welcome, and please be seated. Would you care for refreshment?"

"No, Prefect. We've come to speak of matters of the soul, not the body. I offer you the opportunity to follow Christ's word." Cyril slowly unwrapped the bundle, revealing a New Testament, its cover worked in red leather, the letters picked out in gold. "Jesus taught we should forgive our enemies. I have publicly stated that I forgive you your sins and misguided actions in defending the Jews."

Orestes kept his temper with difficulty. "Do you consider me your enemy?"